A Day Off
by SD
Summary: Life onboard the Flying Dutchman can be tedious. So Will gives the crew some free time for relaxation and finds some much needed renewal from an unexpected challenge.


**A Day Off**

By S.D.

A/N: This is a one-shot. Could be considered a companion to _Ten Years At Sea_. I wrote it in the context of that story, but never really found a place to fit it in. There may be more of these to come, but I'm not sure yet.

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It was a fine hot day, the kind of day that puts sailors in good spirits. There was a steady fresh breeze and white clouds drifting across the sapphire sky. Will was glad he had brought the Dutchman into the living world this day. It had been a busy sort of week, with both a naval battle and a tropical storm giving them plenty of passengers to deliver to the other side. After taking the souls safely across, Will had declared a day of leisure for the crew. They surfaced in the warm waters near the equator and took shifts caring for the bare basics of the ship. In their free time, the crew played all sorts of games and sports. Will spent most of his time aloft, leaning against the foremast, basking in the sun and enjoying the breeze. He rarely took time off to enjoy himself, but he knew the crew deserved it. The land of the dead, the misty sea between worlds, and the underside of the sea were all dreary places to spend much time. The crew of the Dutchman was used to it, but a day "topside" would do them all good.

Below him, two crew members had taken up their swords for a bit of fencing. On a regular ship, this sort of dangerous recreation would be quickly ended by the Captain or Bosun. But on a ship of the dead, it was a harmless pastime. Will watched with an amused expression as the two men battled. One of the men was significantly outmatched by the other and soon the better swordsman scored a touch on his opponent. The winner shouted in victory and began boasting of his ability to best anyone on board. Another crewman took up his challenge and was also defeated. Soon, the crewman had beaten three more men, and was reveling in his accomplishment. Will shook his head. The man was aggressive and advanced forcefully on his opponents, but Will suspected that if he were put to the test, he'd be less than agile on the defense.

In a moment of levity, Will shouted down, "You only think you're good because you haven't had a real challenge yet."

"Is that so, Cap'n?" The victor said in surprise. "If that be the case, per'aps ye'd come on down and put o'd Robbie to the test."

Will considered for a moment. He hadn't intended to really challenge his crewman. But a fencing match would feel really good. He hadn't had a chance to practice his swordsmanship in ages. He had no doubt that he could beat Robbie, even though he was out of practice. So he slid down a rope and picked up one of the swords. It was a coarse weapon, nothing like what he would make, but the balance wasn't bad. His entire body felt more alive than it had in months. His muscles tensed in memory of years of training, and his nerves tingled in anticipation.

Robbie looked taken aback that he was actually going to face his captain in a fencing match. But he overcame his surprise quickly and took up his position. As Will knew he would, Robbie advanced forcefully, swinging hard and fast. Will blocked each attack efficiently, trying to maintain his ground and save his energy. He could tell that Robbie was beginning to realize that Will was not to be intimidated. As Robbie slowed down to rethink his strategy, Will sensed his advantage and took up the offense. Robbie deflected his attacks sloppily, and Will could tell he was struggling to keep up. So he upped the ante by moving sideways. Robbie was caught off guard and swung clumsily at Will while desperately trying to collect himself to mimic Will's footwork. He regained his bearings and gave a valiant attempt to regain the offense, but Will was quicker and avoided his attacks easily. Robbie struggled to maintain his rhythm while in motion, and before he knew it, Will had not only scored a touch, but had also disarmed him in the process.

Will lowered his weapon and held out his hand to Robbie. Robbie shook it as though in a daze. As Will looked around at his crew, they all wore identical expressions of amazement. Apparently none of them knew their captain was such an expert swordsman. Will laid down the sword, to allow them to continue their competition and walked over to where Bootstrap was leaning against the railing.

"That was a fair bit o' swordplay, there, Will." Bootstrap said, with a measure of surprise and pride in his voice. "Where'd yeh learn to fight like that?"

Will leaned against the railing and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve. He thought, not for the first time, of how little those on the Dutchman, including his father, really knew him. To the crew, he was simply the Captain, not unfriendly, but distant. And even Bootstrap seemed reluctant to pry into Will's personal life unless he sensed Will wanted to talk. Since Will wasn't one to talk about himself much, the result was a mutual detachment. Still exhilarated from the fight, he spoke freely.

"I was a blacksmith in Jamaica. I started making swords when I was thirteen, and I practiced swordsmanship three hours every day from then on. There were always soldiers and sailors passing through Port Royal, and anytime I could find someone willing to teach me, test me or evaluate my technique, I took the opportunity."

"Three hours a day, eh?" Bootstrap said, amused and impressed. "What caused yeh to be so keen on swordfightin'?"

Will smiled wryly. "Well, I wanted to be prepared in case I should happen to meet a pirate."

He looked past his father, lost in thought. "When I traveled from England to look for you in the Caribbean, the ship I was on was attacked by the Black Pearl under Barbossa's command. I didn't know it at the time, but they were trying to track down the piece of Aztec gold you'd sent me. I was the only survivor of the attack, and I decided then that I would learn to defend myself."

Bootstrap looked at his son thoughtfully. "Strange how one small thing can make such a difference in a person's life. That little piece of gold cost me my life."

"And mine as well," Will responded quietly. "If it hadn't been for that coin, I would have never been mixed up with the likes of Barbossa and Jack Sparrow."

"For that I'm sorry, Will. I thought by sendin' it to you, I'd prove my point to Barbossa. Didn't really think much beyond that."

"It did cause the chain of events that brought me here. But if you hadn't sent it to me, I would never have met Elizabeth. She was aboard the ship that rescued me after Barbossa's attack."

"Aye, that's why it's best not to dwell too strongly on the 'mighta-beens,'" Bootstrap said. "The gains an' the losses often come mixed up together and it's damn near impossible to separate 'em."

Will nodded. "Even being here, on this ship, has its gains. Had I never taken up with pirates, I would have never gotten to know my father."

Bootstrap looked at Will cautiously. His son was still leaning casually against the railing, gazing into the distance, as if oblivious to the impact his words had made upon the older man.

"Ah, well," Boostrap began lightly. "Are yeh disappointed that your old man turned out to be a pirate?"

"There was a point in time when I believed that it was impossible to be both a good man and a pirate. I was wrong. You are a good man."

"Thank yeh, Will." Bootstrap cleared his throat and continued briskly. "Well, all that sword practicin' sure paid off. You put that braggart, Robbie Sparks, in his place."

Will laughed for the first time in months, enjoying the feeling. "He's not the first, and he won't be the last either."


End file.
